Coffee Flavored Rain
by frizzy.writings
Summary: Kenny thinks Tweek is pretty freakin' cute when he's spazzing; Tweek doesn't even know what to think, period. Slash, Craig/Tweek, Tweek/Kenny. T for Language.
1. Chapter 1

Rated T for Strong Language (not graphic sex scenes or anything; sorry but if you're looking for some crazy descriptive boy on boy action or something it's not gonna be here)

A/N: Slash. Yes, this story has it so if you're not comfortable with reading it then I don't really suggest this story for you. I've got this mostly planned out, it's gonna be about 4 chapters and uhh this is my first south park fanfic. So, that is quite fantastic I suppose. I'm actually not a Kenny/Tweek fan, Kenny just seems to like the boobies a little too much for me to see him as bisexual or gay. But for the sake of this story, he is bi. Also if anyone wants to give me detailed descriptions of how you actually play Halo...that would be awesome.

Disclaimer: Clearly I do not own South Park

* * *

_Sometimes, Tweek told me once, he saw the world in terms of coffee._

_ It was raining when he did, and the power had gone out, which hadn't done anything to ease his paranoia. He'd almost bolted out the door when the electricity clicked off, and I was pretty sure the only thing keeping him here was my death-grip around him, and the reassurance that our coffeemaker would manage to keep a full pot hot for at least an hour more (there was no question of there actually being a full pot - I mean come on, it's Tweek). The TV stared back at us blankly, and I realized I couldn't even remember what we'd been watching. There was a shock of lightning, followed almost immediately by a long roll of thunder. Tweek sort of jolted, like a startled horse, and I pulled him closer to me, until there was so little space between us that I could tell he was twitching in time with my heartbeat. The rain increased, until it was pounding so hard and fast you couldn't even see out the windows, just a continuous fall of water. I felt like we were sinking, just me and Tweek in this big sucking ocean of rain.  
_

_"...mmmsounds like a coffee grinder..." he mumbled softly.  
_

_"What?" I asked, grinning.  
_

_"Ack! Nothing!"  
_

_"No, what?" I heard him mutter something, the only word I could catch being 'silly'. I craned my neck forwards, so that I could speak directly into his ear. "If you tell me," and he started a little, "I'll go out to Harbucks."  
_

_"Wha...in the rain!?"  
_

_"Yea."  
_

_"You could die! Hazardous driving conditions! Oh Jesus, man!"  
_

_"So tell me, then, or I _will_ go out in the rain," I replied, figuring I had him cornered now.  
_

_"Rrrg!" exclaimed Tweek, pulling at his poorly buttoned his shirt. The funny thing about him was no one was sure what his voice really sounded like, since it was always so strained. We weren't sure if his voice had even cracked since most of the usual giveaways were a continuous part of his speech. "Just...just sometimes I see stuff and I think...coffee."  
_

_I laughed at first, but I felt him shudder deliberately inside my arms, so I stopped. "Like what?"  
_

_"You, nng, you won't laugh?" he asked, even though I just had. I squeezed him lightly in reply, and he seemed to take this as a 'no.'_ _"Like...like when Cartman used to laugh and all the little wrinkles in his face looked like the ridges in whipped cream, and when Christophe's smoking he breathes it so the smoke comes out the same way like steam off an espresso and Clyde's hair is like the bits of ginger on top of a gingerbread latte and, and," he stopped, his breathing fast, "It's the metapors man, they're finally getting to me!"_

_"What about Kenny?" I asked dully, and felt his body tense.  
_

_"I never...Kenny never reminded...I don't know! Ehrg!"  
_

_I smiled to myself and leaned back into the couch, Tweek's body moving with me. There was another flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a loud clap of thunder. Tweek gave a little jump, and I heard a muffled 'Oh Jesus!' as he burrowed into my shirt. I ruffled his already messy hair in an effort to calm him.  
_

_"What about me?" I asked.  
_

_"What about you?"  
_

_"Coffee, remember?"  
_

_He laughed, "Oh yea, that."_

xxx

"Hello...hello? Earth to Tweek?"

"_AY! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"  
_

"AGHCK!"

Tweek jumped and fell off the cheap plastic seat he had been momentarily perched on before Cartman's sudden outburst, landing on the school cafeteria's floor, much to the amusement of his tablemates.

"Jesus, Cartman! You could've killed him!"

"Maybe if he wasn't so goddamn high-strung..."

"So? Don't start shouting your gigantic mouth off at him just cuz you're so freakin' impatient, fatass."

"Actually, Kyle, I would say I am the practical _empathy _of patience."

"Epitome, and the hell you are. Give me _one _example of when you've ever been patient about anything."

"Well, I've been waiting quite patiently awaiting the moment you turn around and betray us, you little Jew-backstabber."

The rest of the conversation was lost on Tweek as he looked up to see Kenny's face, grinning back down at him. "You alright?" he asked, offering a hand to Tweek.

"Ehg, yea, I'm okay," he replied, taking Kenny's hand in his own and allowing his...friend? to hoist him back to his seat. Across the cafeteria he could see thee boys sitting at the table in the corner - two of them were engaged in a fierce arm-wrestling match, the other was looking right at Tweek, who smiled back uneasily.

"Okay, so, now that you've returned from the lunch room floor," - Tweek turned his head to see a bemused Kenny talking to him - "what do you say?"

"Erm, say? About what?" He heard a 'for chrissake' from Cartman's direction, but Stan quickly started talking, possibly to keep Kyle from going after Eric again.

"We're thinking about throwing a party this weekend, but we're not sure which house. My parents will be gone this weekend, so mine would be good, but Kyle's house is way bigger."

"I told you we should just do _mine_!" interrupted Cartman.

"Who said you were invited, fatass?" asked Kyle smugly.

"Oh Jesus, this is too much pressure!" cried Tweek, reaching for his thermos. He felt a hand slide around his waist and looked towards Kenny, who was pulling him closer.

"We don't even have to go really," said Kenny, his comment unheard by the other three who were busy arguing again, "Not if you don't want to." The way he was looking at him clearly made up for Kenny's unspoken words; _I don't need a party to have a good time._

"Augh! Oh Jesus!" Tweek looked out across the lunchroom, hoping to catch Craig's eye again, but he couldn't see him. He squirmed in his seat a little, wishing he was over there with his best friend and they could laugh at Clyde whenever he swelled up at the sight of a cheerleader, and they could listen to Token talk about the latest high-tech appliance his family had invested in. Tweek wasn't particularly good friends with Stan, Kyle and Cartman, and as for Kenny...

Honestly, Tweek wasn't even sure what he and Kenny were. After Tweek had exploded at his own lunch table, shouting "I'M GAY" and promptly passing out afterwards at the beginning of junior year, Kenny had come up to him and asked him if he wanted to 'hang out.' They'd never really established themselves as a couple, really, and most of their 'hanging out' was done at school or one of their houses, so sometimes Tweek wondered, where did that leave them? Dating? Ish?

"Hah, you're pretty fuckin' cute when you're spazzing out," laughed Kenny, giving Tweek a small kiss on the forehead, which prompted a crude vomiting-pantomime from Cartman. "You free tonight?"

"Um, erg, Craig and Clyde and Token, we were uh gonna go play videogames or something at Craig's."

Kenny shrugged, "Think you can blow them off?"

"Ehn! I dunno! I think they're kinda pissed how I haven't hung with them in a while."

"What can I say dude, we just can't get enough of you," replied Kenny, the lopsided grin on his face sending a shiver down Tweek's spine.

"Well, I can ask, but it's your fault if Craig kills me!" exclaimed Tweek, taking a gulp of coffee and letting out a small sigh of relief.

"Fair enough," said a smirking Kenny, turning back to his three friends just in time to see Cartman "accidentally" drop his milk carton in Kyle's lap.

xxx

"Dude, no, are you serious?" whined Clyde by the flagpole after school, "I finally convinced Craig and Token to play balderdash tonight, but you can't play with only three people!"

"Uhm, I'm sorry?" replied Tweek nervously, "What the hell is balderdash?"

"Some lameass board game he's been trying to get us to play since forever," replied Token, rolling his eyes, "Sucks you can't chill tonight, but at least we don't have to play that..."

"Goddammit it is a good game!"

"It's like, vocabulary and shit, right?"

"What? What's goin' on involving vocabulary and shit?" The three boys looked up to see Craig walking towards them, shoving some flyaway papers back into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulders.

"Nothing, actually, since Tweek is busy with his boyfriend again," replied Clyde, ignoring the small comment of 'he's not my boyfriend...' from the side.

"Huh?" said Craig, turning towards Tweek, "What are you, Kenny's bitch?"

"Arg! Pressure!" Craig sighed, watching as Tweek reached for the thermos he had propped against his feet and took a huge gulp of coffee, his cheeks flush as he lowered the drink, "I'm sorry, but he..."

"What, gives good blowjobs?" snorted Token.

"AUGH JESUS CHRIST MAN!" cried Tweek, taking another gulp of coffee, oblivious to Clyde's laughter. Hands shaking, he replaced the lid on his thermos, "We're, we're not like that."

"I'm just fucking with you man," replied Token, grinning.

"So's Kenny!" quipped Clyde, prompting another outburst from Tweek.

"Dude, shut up, you're going to give him a heart attack," said Craig, his intention

compromised by the smile on his face. "Seriously though...when -"

"Hey!"

Craig turned to see who had cut him off, his three friends following suit to see Kenny sauntering over towards them, hands hidden in the pockets of his faded and torn jeans, an innocent smile sketched across his face. He had already figured Tweek's friends weren't going to be too pleased about their friend's new plans, and Kenny wasn't really in the mood to worsen his relations with anyone that day, particularly Craig, who had a grudge-holding habit.

"Hey man," replied Craig evenly, sizing up Kenny with a brief flick of his eyes, an action not lost on the newcomer, "What's up?"

"Nothing really, got held up in the hallway - someone was beating the crap outta Pip so there was like a hallway-traffic jam."

"What else is new," said Clyde, leaning against the flagpole.

"Yea," replied Kenny absently, turning towards Tweek, "You ready?"

Tweek nodded his head, the action hardly distinguishable from his regular shaking. He replaced his bag over his shoulder and hugged his thermos to his side as he moved off with Kenny, the two beginning to walk off in the direction of the lesser-used roads of South Park which led to the direction of Kenny's house.

"Bye guys!" called Tweek, turning his head over his shoulder to see Craig looking surly and Clyde giving him a brief wave back, Token busy on his cellphone.

"Did you have history today?" Kenny asked, prompting Tweek to turn back to him as they continued walking, the sounds of school receding behind them, "Dude, we have to write a play. And perform it. About the differences between class types or something of medieval Europe. I mean, what the hell man, when did I sign up for drama, huh? I hate when they make us do this bullshit - like having us dress up like medieval dorks for a day is gonna make the class 'fun' and interesting or something. Think the most interesting thing that could happen would be if Mrs. Porter just like died at the front of the class or something," ranted Kenny, referring to their history teacher at the end.

"Die? Like spontaneous combustion?" asked Tweek, taking a sip of coffee.

Kenny thought for a second, "Accidental suicide. She'd bore herself to death."

Tweek laughed, taking the hand he could feel searching for his own as the continued to walk on, Tweek mostly nodding and sipping and shaking, as he was prone to do, while Kenny carried on. Once Kenny had shed his orange parka in 6th grade, mostly everyone (excluding Stan, Kyle and Cartman of course) was surprised to find he actually had quite a mouth on him, something that Tweek honestly appreciated about him. It left him able to relax and listen to Kenny carry on a conversation without having to worry too much about needing to respond. Less pressure - even the most mundane things seemed to cause Tweek unnecessary stress, from homework to cleaning dishes to just talking with his sort-of-almost-boyfriend-but-not-really.

It wasn't a fairly long walk, just across the train tracks 'til you reached the faded green house with the paint-chipped door. Kenny's home always reminded Tweek vaguely of a game he used to play when they were younger - "jenga." Basically it consisted of stacking up a bunch of rectangular blocks of wood until you had a small tower, and then you had to take turns pulling out the pieces. Whoever pulled out the piece that made the tower collapse lost.

Kenny's house made Tweek think of what the tower looked like the moment before the key piece was removed - dangerously precarious, threatening to collapse at any moment.

He followed Kenny to the front, the latter of which pushed open the door and proceeded inside. The lock had rusted over long ago, and even if it did work, what was the point, Kenny would say. It wasn't as if the house offered anything good to steal.

"Welcome to the McCormick's, the classiest dump this side of South Park!" exclaimed Kenny, kicking off his boots, "Where you can enjoy today's latest entertainments such as TV boxing, or sample the finest of American Cuisine in Wall-Mart's newest brand of frozen waffles!"

"TV Boxing?" asked an amused Tweek as he followed Kenny into the kitchen

"Yea, it's when you get so mad at our TV's shitty picture you just get up and start punching the hell out of it," replied Kenny, standing on his toes to reach the top of shelf of one of the upper cabinets. At 5"9 it wasn't as if Kenny really had to reach. Better than Tweek, at least, who was just making 5"4 thanks to a consistent diet of coffee and little else. He got most of his calcium intake from the steamed milk in espressos.

"Sounds dangerous."

"Hah, well, you should know," replied Kenny, who was scrambling on the counters now so he could be on eye-level with the cabinet he had been reaching into before, "You were the one who boxed Craig or something in 3rd grade right?"

"Jesus, careful man! What if you slip and die and squash me?"

Kenny, now fully standing on the kitchen counter, was reaching his arm as far back into the cabinet as was possible. "Dude relax, I would never accidentally kill you."

"Well, that's a relief."

"You hungry?" asked Kenny, already knowing the answer.

"I'm fine, thanks," replied Tweek, his right eye blinking rapidly.

"'Kay. Scoot over a bit if you don't want to get squashed."

Tweek shuffled off to the side a little, and Kenny jumped off the counter, two packets of poptarts in his left hand. Tweek thought he felt the whole house move a little as Kenny hit the ground, before he began shoving poptarts into the battered toaster kept tucked in the corner.

"So what's up with you?" asked Kenny, moving onto the living room. Their toaster was so bad it'd take it around five or so minutes before the poptarts would finally be suitably warm, and he didn't feel like standing around in the kitchen until then.

"Erm, my mom wants a canary and my dad got this new coffee from some guy in Idaho," started Tweek, scratching his head as he moved to sit on the room's torn up couch, Kenny following suit, "It's...it's totally gross! It all tastes like potatoes! I mean, Jesus Christ! Potato coffee!?"

"Blasphemy," nodded Kenny, moving closer towards Tweek.

"My dad -gck!- my dad says it's good to, to promote local business or something but Idaho's a whole freakin' other state! How the hell is supporting potato coffee any good? It's the most sick, twisted thing I've ever -erg!- tasted!"

"Heh, _relax_." Tweek jumped a little, he hadn't quite realized how close Kenny had come, "Potatoes aren't that bad. You have pumpkin coffee stuff don't you?"

"Wha, what? We don't-"

Tweek wasn't given a chance to fully explain what it was "they" didn't do, because Kenny's mouth was sort of preventing his own from anymore talking. He made a little noise of surprise, which Kenny was obviously ignoring, as could be interpreted by the fact that Tweek was finding himself pushed down on the couch. Kenny broke away for a second, grinning down at the teen pinned beneath him. Tweek was twitching uncontrollably, looking supremely awkward and uncomfortable.

"Er, uh, Kenny."

"Yea?" asked Kenny, lowering his head until his forehead was just lightly touching Tweek's.

"This, er - nng!" Tweek found his protestations cut short again by Kenny. His eyes widened as he felt Kenny's hands moving under his poorly-buttoned shirt, and the over-caffeinated teen started shaking so badly he sent his head knocking into Kenny's.

"Ow!" exclaimed Kenny, sitting up sharply and rubbing his head, "Relax, dude."

"Aughck! Jesus Christ, man, I can't - agh!" Tweek was struggling to raise himself, still twitching more violently than usual. Kenny reached forwards, spreading his hand out on Tweek's chest in an effort to get him to lie back, "No, Kenny! Oh Jesus, do I freakin' look like -ah!- I want to get raped today or something?"

"For fuck's sake, man, you _never _want to do anything."

"Well that's the difference," snapped Tweek, rolling off the couch and grabbing his thermos as he did so, "between a whore and...and...!" _And what_, he thought as he rose to his feet again, _your boyfriend? Your friend? _"Augh...whatever, s-see you tomorrow."

Kenny didn't move as he watched the shaky boy twitch and stumble his way out his house, oblivious to the small _ding! _in the background signaling that his poptarts were ready.

xxx

Tweek let his feet do the walking, his hands and mind wrapped around the coffee he was currently drinking as if his life depended on it. His brain seemed to relax and go blank as he tilted the thermos upwards, allowing a clear path for the dark liquid through his mouth and down his throat, the warmth spreading quickly throughout his body. He let out a shaky "aah" of appreciation and raised the thermos again, only to find that it was empty. A small wave of panic overtook him, and he paused in his walk, his head spinning with what had just happened. He turned, hesitant... _Maybe_, he thought, _I should go back, just say I'm sorry I mean it's not like...like Kenny deals with people like me all the time, I guess, right? _He stood standing there, torn by the thought about going back to Kenny, while also feeling the need to keep going and meanwhile his thermos was empty empty _SO EMPTY.  
_

Coffee won out in the end. _I'll just see him tomorrow_, thought Tweek, moving hurriedly over the train tracks, still clutching his thermos to his chest as if it were cast from gold. The McCormick's house lacked a coffee machine and really, as he kept walking further away from it, Tweek realized just how little he desired to go back in there and see Kenny at that moment. When he'd walked out, he'd been feeling pretty good. After all, "confidence" and "Tweek Tweak" were two terms hardly associated with each other. Now, though, as a light flurry of snow started in, he was beginning to doubt himself. _I overreacted, _he thought, jerking the collar of his shirt while longing for the warmth provided by his favorite drink, _I shouldn't've..._

He stopped when he found that his feet had made a left turn a few streets back, leading him not to the Tweak residence, but the familiar house of his best friend, Craig. Tweek stood nervously outside. The house was dark but for one window that he knew opened into the living room, the view of which was mostly blocked by the large TV propped against it. Muffled shouts and exclamations managed to drift their way outside, to where Tweek stood in the silent cold, body twitching as he contemplated going inside.

His obnoxiously loud cellphone ring distracted him, though, as the tinny notes played out a shortened, bastardized version of Beethoven's Fifth, prompting a mini-freak out from Tweek as he struggled to retrieve the cellphone from his pocket. In the struggle to obtain his phone, his metal thermos slipped from his grip, hitting the ground sharply and beginning to roll noisily towards the street, which only caused Tweek more exasperation as he forgot about the ringing phone to go after his thermos.

_Oh Jesus, oh Jesus not the street!  
_

"Tweek?"

Lunging forwards, Tweek managed to grab the container just before it entered the road, though in his hasty move his phone managed to fly from his pocket and crash into sidewalk.

"Augh!" he cried, kneeling on the ground to collect the pieces of what once was his cellphone.

"Tweek." He stopped, pausing in his mad scramble to look up and see Craig, staring back down at him with a bemused expression. "Need some help?"

"Ah, um, I think it's too late," replied Tweek, glancing at the cracked screen he was

holding in his hand.

"Alas, poor phone," smirked Craig, kneeling to Tweek's level, "It will be missed."

Tweek laughed his shaky laugh- the phone in question had been a clunky, three-year old model that had been the butt-end of many Craig's jokes at lunch. His laughter died away though as he realized what he would have to tell his parents. Craig noticed the sudden change in his friend.

"Maybe your parents will get you a new one, huh? Something more recent, like, from the stone age," he grinned, before grabbing Tweek beneath his arms and hoisting him up to his feet. Not much of a challenge, considering Tweek's pathetic weight. "What're you doing here?"

"Just admiring your house, of course," replied Tweek, grinning, "You know how I love to come here and stare into your windows in negative temperatures."

"Hah!" laughed Craig, "Seriously though, it's fuckin' freezing out here. C'mon, Token's inside, we're playing Halo."

"Oh Jesus," muttered Tweek, letting Craig pull him inside, "Where's Clyde?"

"He's out getting pizza," replied Craig as they entered his house, and it was then Tweek noticed his friend hadn't even been wearing shoes. He was peeling off his socks, now soaked from the snow, "He kept bitching about how he wanted to play wii tennis and then he started saying that he could 'own' us all in it. So Token bet him that he could beat him and then we had a wii tennis match to see who would have to go out and get pizza." Craig was moving towards the kitchen now, Tweek behind him. "And Clyde lost. Big shocker."

"Hey Craig, what's the deal?" came Token's voice from the living room.

"Just Tweek," yelled Craig in reply, extending a hand towards Tweek. The shaking boy looked back, confused, until Craig gestured to his thermos. Finally comprehending, Tweek handed over the container to him, and watched as Craig began to fill it from the full pot of coffee he had resting on the counter.

"You made coffee?" asked Tweek, accepting his thermos gratefully. Craig hated coffee, and last he checked, Token and Clyde generally preferred soda and beer over Tweek's favorite drink.

"My dad came and made some before he left," replied Craig after a moment's hesitation, referring to the infrequent visits his family would sometimes take to Denver to visit his sick grandma. He usually managed to talk his way out of having to go on them, though sometimes this came with the price of having to watch his sister on the occasion when she put up enough of a fight to stay, too.

"Oh. Cool." With twitching hands, he raised the thermos to his lips and took deep, shaking gulps, sighing deeply.

"Well now that you've got your fix," snorted Craig, retreating back to the living room, waving for Tweek to follow. Token was stretched out on the couch, video game controller in hand as he focused on the game set up in front of him.

"Oh, hey Tweek," he said, gaze turning from the screen to greet his friend, "What's up?"

"Ehn, not much," he replied, taking his usual seat on the floor at the foot of the couch, while Craig returned to his sprawled out position on the chair to the side, picking up his own controller

"You want to play?" asked Craig, turning towards Tweek while gesturing to the mess of controllers and wires at the base of the TV.

"No thanks," he replied, feeling content to watch Token and Craig take turns blasting aliens. For a while computerized gun blasts and Craig and Token's swearing filled the room, until Clyde walked in later, bearing pizza and complaints about how cold it was, how far the drive was, how lonely it was, how -

"Shut up Clyde," ordered Craig, flipping him off while reaching for a slice of pizza.

"Dude, Tweek? I thought you were busy! Man I coulda brought-"

"I swear to God Clyde, I will kill you if you mention your gayass game one more time," threatened Craig, cutting him off.

"Yea, whatever," he muttered in reply, grabbing a slice and nudging Token's feet off the couch to make room for him, "Guess who I saw at the pizza place?"

"Who?" supplied Token.

"Mr. Garrison, man!"

"Hahaha, no shit? That's creepy."

"I know! And then when I was paying for the pizza he was like 'watch carefully Clyde because that's gonna be you in a few years.'"

"Yea right, you'll probably be some creepy manwhore living in a box."

"Yea!? Well you're...eh…stupid."

"Oh, _zing_! Good one, Clyde."

"Shut up Token."

"Oh! Another killer! Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"..."

"That's the best one yet."

Tweek sighed, leaning back into the pillow he'd swiped from the couch as he let the familiar conversation wash over him, erasing the day's previous events. The rest of the night followed in mostly the same pattern of video-gaming and cursing, with Clyde now added to the mix. At some point, he asked Tweek if he would get him a soda, since everyone else was busy playing, and of course Tweek obliged. It was when he had just grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator, though, that he was taken by one of his frequent spasms, forcing him to drop the soda can, which cracked open and started spraying all over the place. At the sound of Tweek's sudden shouts, Craig, Clyde and Token all came rushing in to see if anyone had been murdered, only to find their friend dancing around the kitchen floor to avoid the innocent-soda-can-turned-sugary-projectile. It was enough to send Clyde into hysterics, and even prompt at least half of that rare, genuine sort of smile from Craig. The remainder of the evening passed with notably less excitement and, far sooner than he would have preferred, Tweek found himself returned to the quiet house where his mother and father were already sleeping, while he resigned himself to another slumberless night on the bed that hardly had a use.

xxx

Tweek loved coffee. Possibly love was not even a strong enough word to describe the way he seemed to yearn after, _need_ the hot drink to get through every day - this much was obvious by his ever-present thermos. Still, there were times when Tweek resented his apparent addiction.

Specifically, during first period biology. It was during the morning classes when teachers were faced with the greatest challenge, of keeping their students fully awake, something the biology teacher seemed to fail dismally at, not that he really appeared to care. All around the room, chins were knelt against chests, faces were pressed against desks, and foreheads were boring into crossed arms, all with closed eyes. Few students were made the exception to this plague of sleep that seemed to seep throughout the room and, unsurprisingly, Tweek was amongst them. He loved the way the coffee traveled through him, burning the back of his throat and tongue and then infecting him with its warmth and energy. At the same time, though, there was no other class that made him regret his constantly, wakeful state more. With the ever-present liquid flowing through him, pumping caffeine in him day in and day out, it made him impossible to give in to a drowsy feeling that he never even knew, and that morning, there was nothing more he wanted to do then fold his arms on his desk, burrow into them, and fall asleep. He had even attempted it already, but he'd hardly lowered his head then it had snapped up again, his entire body shaking. He had nothing to distract him from total awakeness - or rather, he had everything to distract him, but nothing he could focus on. Every second seemed to stretch to minutes and hours for the vibrating teen, the teacher's words blending into the background until they became the beating, pulsing heart of the class that didn't seem to die. To his right, Craig was slumped over his desk, his hat slowly sliding off the back of his head. Tweek stared, watching the hat as it kept up its slow crawl, revealing more and more of Craig's unkempt black hair until it tiled too far to the left and, in one final motion, slipped off and fell to the floor. The loss went unnoticed by Craig, whose closed eyes and soft snoring left no question as to where his mind was, which was to say, clearly not in the class room. For a few seconds, Tweek watched the small sway of hair suspended over Craig's mouth, as it moved back and forth in time with his breathing, similar to a pendulum.

The beating seemed to stop. Tweek looked up, left eye twitching, searching to see what had caused the teacher to cease his speech.

"Ah," he said, his voice already dry from lecturing, "Nice of you to join us, Mr. McCormick."

Kenny, as always, had arrived noticeably late to class. He gave the teacher a sort of lazy salute, who turned back to his listless students, leaving Kenny free to saunter over to his seat. Tweek reached for his thermos so that he was busy in what appeared to be an attempt to drown his lungs in coffee as Kenny took his seat to the left of Tweek, just as he began coughing, choking on the coffee he'd downed too quickly. Craig woke with a start, mumbling absently 'where's my hat..?' and flipping off no one in particular, before turning to realize it was his friend's hacking that had risen him from his sleep. He hardly had time to react before Kenny was there, patting Tweek's back in an effort to quell his choking. Over his loud coughing, Tweek heard Craig mutter something indecipherable before leaning down to retrieve his hat and resume his former position, sprawled across the table with his hat covering his eyes.

"There – you okay now?"

Tweek gave one final cough before turning to answer Kenny, who was now retrieving his binder from his backpack in an effort to at least give the impression that he was paying attention.

"Yea, thanks."

"Hey, didn't I tell you I'd make sure you didn't get killed?"

" Yea but it was more like, you were gonna make sure _you _didn't kill me."

"Same difference," shrugged Kenny, smiling. A brief silence between them, and it was clear they were both thinking the same thing.

"I'm...sorry," said Kenny, focused on the pencil carvings etched upon his desk. "About yesterday," he added, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's, it's okay," replied Tweek, making an attempt to smile, "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't've just left like that."

"Where'd you go anyway? I tried your cellphone but no one picked up, and your mom said you weren't there when I called your house."

"Oh, er, my cellphone broke, and I went to Craig's."

Kenny raised an eyebrow, "Yea? Figures...look, you want to hang out today? I mean, just hang out..."

"I'm, ah, going to Craig's after school," lied Tweek, and he thought he could see Craig move a little in the corner of his eye, while Kenny's face seemed to darken.

"Oh."

"But I could probably leave early?" he added, fingers rapidly tapping the surface of his thermos, as he extended his faltering smile.

Kenny grinned, "Nice," and turned back to face the front of the room, before he remembered it was biology and that he couldn't care less, deciding instead to join the rest of the sleeping class, leaving Tweek alone to fight off the unfailing boredom.


	2. Chapter 2

"So why did you say you were coming home with me?"

"Ghn! - What?"

"You told Kenny you were coming home with me," said Craig. On his other side, Clyde was building a small cabin out of the celery sticks, which Token would periodically knock over to the amusement of a small group of a girls a lunch table over.

"Oh Jesus, I'm sorry! I should've asked you, oh God, I didn't -"

"Woah, woah," said Craig, grabbing Tweek's arm and attempting to hold it still, "It's fine man, Clyde's coming over anyway. I'm just asking, I mean, you and Kenny are sort of...something, at least." His eyes narrowed, "Did something happen? Did he do anything?"

"What? No!" cried Tweek, jerking his arm back, "I'm just, just re-evaluating, ah...stuff."

Their table was sprayed with celery sticks as Token swung his arm forwards and sent the materials of Clyde's nearly completed vegetable cabin in different directions.

"Dude!" exclaimed Clyde, gathering back the sticks, "Not cool!"

"Just eat the damn things," said Token tiredly.

"Well I can't now, they touched the lunch table."

Token rolled his eyes, "Oh no."

"Seriously man," said Craig, turning his gaze back to the nervous wreck that was his best friend, "If something's up..."

"No! Nothing's up! Everything is down, actually, totally down." Tweek grinned, or at least tried to. After spending most of his time worrying, his face wasn't quite used to needing to smile and sometimes not all the right muscles got pulled. Craig smirked at Tweek's attempt to cover-up what he was _sure _was something, and shook his head.

"Whatever, that's fine," he elbowed Clyde, who let out a small yelp, and said to him, "Tweek's gonna come with us tonight, too."

"Oh, cool," replied Clyde indifferently, "Hey, did you do the math homework?"

Craig snorted derisively, but Tweek shouted eagerly, "I did, I actually did it!"

Clyde moaned, "Ah, no, I can't even read your handwriting, Tweek, it's like that ancient Egypt writing, but by drunk Egyptians or something." Tweek stared back, confused.

"Hieroglyphics," said Token.

"What?"

"That's what it's called," he added, "The ancient Egyptian writings you were talking about," he clarified, and when Clyde's confused look persisted, he just sighed and withdrew a piece of paper dotted with math problems, written in the neat, organized handwriting that was Token's.

"Oh sweet, thanks man!" exclaimed Clyde, and went to copying.

It hardly mattered, in the end, since Cartman had ended up cornering Clyde before class and manipulating him into giving him his homework, anyways. When you're about the size and weight of a baby orca whale, you tend to have that sort of power. Clyde was complaining about it after school as he and Tweek waited for Craig outside, and he continued as they made the walk to Craig's house, Tweek noticeably more fidgety than usual.

"...And _now _I'm gonna get a C because the teacher was all 'well Clyde you haven't been doing really well and maybe if you turned in at least one homework assignment, it could raise you to a B,' and that was the _last _homework assignment since the semester is ending tomorrow! Now I'm gonna fail thanks to that fatass."

"C isn't failing," said Craig, finding the opportunity for the first time to speak since Clyde had started.

"It is to my parents," muttered Clyde.

Craig laughed, "My parents would throw me a fuckin' party if I came home with straight C's."

"Yea well we can't all be as lucky as you and have deadbeat 'rents," replied Clyde. Craig responded with his middle finger before shoving the door open to his house, leading the way through the entryway and into the living room, which was currently occupied by a hyperactive seventh grader, her lengthy red hair pulled back into pigtails that bobbed along with her as she bounced in time with the music emanating from the game on the TV screen. The plastic play-guitar strung around her shoulders was a clear giveaway as to which game she was currently engrossed it.

"Hey Gilly," greeted Craig, crossing over to his usual seat, Tweek and Clyde moving towards the couch.

"Hey," replied his sister, Gillian, her eyes unmoving from the screen they were focused on. A small silence began to stretch into the room, broken only by the sounds emanated from Gillian's plastic controller. Eventually, though, the silence continued to the point where it was enough to prompt her to hit the pause button.

"_What?_" she snapped, whirling around to face her brother, hands on her hips - a pose which would normally appear intimidating, if not for the fact it was being conducted by a 13-year-old with a toy guitar slanted across her front.

"Nothing," grinned Craig. It was clear he had intended to come in and play video games with his friends, but at the same time he wasn't the type of brother who would forcefully kick out his younger sister. Unfortunately, he was still the type of person who was accustomed to getting his way with things.

She continued to glare at him, and he did nothing but smile back lazily. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, she turned back around towards the game, saying "You guys can play, too...if you want."

"Thank _you_," replied Craig, leaning over the side of his chair to pick up the second guitar-shaped controller – Tweek saw Gillian shoot her brother the middle finger, before Craig threw the second guitar over to Clyde, laughing when it smacked the un-expecting teenager in the face.

"You and Gilly, Clyde," said Craig, leaning back into his chair, "Tweek n' I'll kick both your asses."

Gillian rolled her eyes, turning around to wait for the slightly embarrassed Clyde to position the controller comfortably.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yea," replied Clyde from the couch, exchanging a look with Tweek.

Gillian and Craig were both fairly good, which was lucky in evening out the teams, since Clyde and Tweek both left a lot to be desired. Clyde could barely handle the game on the easy-setting, whereas Tweek's frequent spasms led him to slamming all the wrong buttons so that his side of the screen was easily marked as the source of a chorus of missed and made-up notes.

"Red, Tweek, _red! _Hit the red button!" Craig half-yelled, half-laughed; the sight of Tweek almost going into cardiac arrest in attempt to play Guitar Hero was too much for him.

"GAH! I'm trying! There are so many flashing lights, man!"

A small icon on screen was starting to flash red, and Craig could hear Gillian laughing behind him. Craig was looking irritated now, "Shit, Tweek, hit the red notes!"

"JESUS CHRIST, this game is TOO MUCH PRESSURE."

"Green, now, _green!_"

"_Nnghh! _- I'm trying!"

They could hardly hear the booing video crowd over Gillian's laughing in the background as Tweek desperately attempted to hit the notes that Craig was now yelling to him as they appeared on the screen.

"I thi-i-i-i-nk we won that one," said Clyde over from the couch, ignoring Craig's usual

response just as the song came to a finish.

"Christ, I'm sorry Craig!" cried Tweek, tearing at his hair.

"Chill man, I'll live if I can't sufficiently master a fake guitar."

Gillian's laugh climbed even higher as Tweek and Craig's score faded onto the screen, and Clyde seemed about ready to add another sarcastic comment, before his right pocket began vibrating and lighting up. He withdrew the cell phone and flipped it open.

"Hey mom, what's up?" He winced and moved the phone about an inch away from his ear, before bringing it back again to say, "Right, sorry, I mean, 'how are you doing?'"

Craig grinned while he slung the guitar-controller off his shoulders before moving over to help Tweek, who had inexplicably managed to get tangled in the straps of his own controller. No surprises there – they had long accepted that Tweek was just rather inexplicable in general. By the time Craig had sufficiently freed his friend from the grasp of the plastic guitar control, Clyde had replaced his cell phone in his pocket and was reaching for his jacket.

"Where're you goin'?" asked Craig.

"Home."

"Dude, it's not even six yet."

"Yea."

"On a Friday night?"

"Tell that to my mom," muttered Clyde, rolling his eyes, "See you tomorrow after practice?"

"Sure," shrugged Craig, watching Clyde as he exited the room, before turning to face Tweek.

"I-I should probably go now," he said, twisting the hem of his shirt.

"Yea, wouldn't want ot keep Kenny waiting," said Craig sarcastically, then, his tone lighter, "C'mon, I'll give you a ride."

Tweek felt as if something in him had been loosened a little, something he hadn't even been aware of being tense until the tightness had melted away. With a brief wave towards Craig's sister, who had already completely re-immersed herself in the game, he walked to the couch to grab his thin jacket before moving after Craig. His friend reached up towards the coat rack, grabbing his trademark blue hat before snatching up a set of keys resting on a small end table and jamming on his shoes.

"Dude," he started, stepping into the chilly evening with Tweek close behind him, "When are you ever going to get your permit?" He shut the door, locking it behind them, "Or are you just expecting me to drive you everywhere until you die?"

"When cars stop killing people," replied Tweek, ignoring Craig's later comment as he followed him to the garage, "Sometime around then." Craig owned a secondhand truck with faded blue paint and a cracked back window. Stuffing leaked out of the torn seats and the left side mirror remained a part of the truck solely through the power of duct tape. Naturally, Craig loved it, while Tweek feared it.

"Cars don't kill people," said Craig, sorting through his keys, "People kill people."

"OK, well, once people stop killing people, then I'll get it."

"Smartass," replied Craig, smiling slightly at the sound of Tweek's nervous laugh from the other side of his truck, where he waited by the passenger side. It was as he slipped the key into the door's lock, though, that Craig felt himself struck by inspiration. He paused, unlocking the door before calling, "Tweek, get over here."

"Huh? What's wrong?" Tweek crossed in front of the car, looking nervous as he moved over towards where Craig was standing, his hand resting on the driver's door. "What's the matter? Is it broken? Oh Jesus, did _I _break it? I don't have any money! How'm I supposed to fix it? I don't know anything –"

"No, shut up," cut Craig, pulling the door open, and nodding inside, "Get in."

Tweek looked from Craig to the inside of the car, confusion twisting upon his face, "Er, what?"

"Get in," replied Craig, beginning to grin now.

"The…the truck?"

"No, the flower pots. What the hell else?"

"I…what? Craig! Craig I can't drive, what are you, what, I don't – Jesus Christ!" Tweek's shock and fear had left him a stammering shell as he fumbled with the lid of his thermos, ending his ramblings with a large gulp of coffee.

"Yea, seriously? I'm not gonna drive you everywhere. C'mon, you know how much driving schools charge for this sort of shit? Like, three, four hundred dollars. Here I'm offering you a driving lesson, totally _free _of charge!" Craig's grin was getting ridiculous at this point.

"N-no, I think I'll just walk to Kenny's…" started Tweek, making as if to go around Craig. But before he could, Craig had whirled around and scooped Tweek up in his arms as easily as if he had been a bag of groceries for Craig to bring into the house. It was enough to nearly send the caffeine-addict into death throes.

"I'm pretty sure you'll thank me for this some day," said Craig, throwing Tweek into the driver's seat and slamming the door, realizing his friend would probably be too panicked to figure that he could just unlock the doors from the inside, "When you actually get your driver's license." He moved over to the right of his truck, crawling into the passenger seat. As soon as he opened the door, he found himself barraged by Tweek's protests.

"Tweek," said Craig, and he watched as his friend seemed to calm a little after simply hearing his name, "Seriously, relax. You think I'm gonna let you get hurt?"

"I…it's…it's a truck!"

Craig laughed, "Yea, it is. Put on your seatbelt." He watched as Tweek pulled the belt across him with an air of uncertainty, as though being in the driver's seat implied that there was an entirely different way to putting on your seatbelt.

"Okay…now what?" he asked, stilling clinging to his thermos.

"Here, put that," Craig struggled with the truck's cup holders; he had two that slid out from beneath the half-working radio and after a short battle, they popped out, "here!" He gestured to Tweek's thermos, and, almost reluctantly it seemed, he placed it in the holder. "And you can take these."

With an open, shaky palm, Tweek accepted the keys Craig was handing over to him, eyes darting nervously from the keys to Craig with such rapidity that Craig was half-expecting his eyes to just keep rolling back like a slot machine. He watched as Tweek found the key to Craig's truck amidst all the others on the ring, then simply looked from the key to Craig.

"Good job, you found the key," grinned Craig, "Raise the seat and move the mirrors first. See, you gotta just," Craig leaned over to grab the knob used to raise the seat; there was nearly a ten-inch difference between him and Tweek, who was currently blushing, unbeknownst to Craig who had moved on to adjusting the side mirror. "You can do the top mirror yourself," he instructed, moving back to his comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

Tweek was extraordinarily self-conscious of the fact that Craig was watching his every move, watching as he took the mirror in his shaky grasp and angled it downwards so he could get a clear view out of the cracked back window. He looked towards Craig, who grinned his approval, and Tweek tried to start up the car. His twitching was so violent that he could hardly get the key in the ignition.

"Here."

He felt Craig's hand close around his, guiding the key smoothly and helping Tweek turn it away from him. The engine sputtered to life, causing Tweek to jump forwards suddenly, only to be slammed back in his seat by the belt wrapped so securely around him.

"Jesus! It's on! Christ, what do I do? Oh God, whadda I do, this was a bad idea, Craig – Jesus!"

"Done?"

The anxious teen turned his head towards Craig, who was leaning back with a confident smile. "Really," he said, his voice surprisingly sincere considering the almost superior expression on his face, "I said I wouldn't let you get hurt, right?"

_'I would never accidentally kill you.' _Tweek blinked. It would appear he constantly needed the reassurance of the fact that nobody was out to murder him.

"Right?"

"Augh!" exclaimed Tweek, startled.

"Exactly," replied Craig, his hand moving beneath his hat as he ran it through his hair, "Now I'd like you to meet your new best friend, Mr. Brake."

"Brake?"

"Call him Brakey if you want, whatever. Anything goes wrong, kick him in the face. Put your left leg over there – you don't even need it."

"What? What about brakes?"

"You use your right foot for both. Dude don't worry, it's like 25 of your body you don't have to think about already."

"O-Okay." Tweek listened as Craig went over a few other parts of the car, showing particular interest in the emergency brake, before he was told to put the car in

reverse. "What!?"

"You sort of have to be in the road to drive."

"What if I crash!? Oh God!"

"Are you kidding? This is South Park. You're probably more likely to run yourself into a pole than see another car on the road."

Tweek had to concede defeat at this; his friend did have a point. Slowly, at the rate of about an inch an hour, he began to slide out of the garage and down the driveway, eyes constantly tracing a triangular path from the rearview mirror, to the side mirror, and back to Craig who had been smiling more than Tweek had seen him do so in an entire year. At least he was enjoying himself. That was the thing about Craig; he had a habit of putting you in what looked like a situation that could only lead to a wooden box six feet under, but, as could be clearly illustrated by his left hand hovering over the emergency brake and the encouraging words he was telling Tweek, he always had your back.

"Okay…now what?" asked Tweek, who had a look of shock on his face that clearly said he hadn't even been expecting to make it out of the driveway alive. His shaking hands were still stuck to the steering wheel.

"Now…you're going to have to _move forward_," said Craig, his tone overly-serious.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Goddamn, how many times do I have to tell you to relax?"

Craig grabbed the gearshift and moved it to the "drive" position, narrating everything he was doing for Tweek's sake. The sun was beginning its early winter descent as the battered old truck began to crawl along the road. Tweek drove the car the same way coffee drove himself – the truck would appear to move along fine before suddenly jerking forwards and being yanked to a stop, wheels twisting in different directions as Tweek panicked over things like birds flying across the road or speed bumps. The entire time Craig remained calm, his steady voice acting as an anchor for his friend's panicked state.

"Hey, congratulations," mused Craig as Tweek jerked the truck to a halt before a stop sign, "We made it down the block."

"Am I done? Is that enough? Jesus Christ, this is too much!"

"Do you see Kenny's house here? C'mon, there's no one on the road – keep goin', you're doing fine."

"Augh! Are you sure you're in the same car as me?" asked Tweek, tearing his eyes from the road to look at Craig, who laughed.

"Pretty sure. Really, you're doing pretty great, considering."

Tweek paused, chewing his lip as he tried to ignore the small twist in his stomach he'd felt from Craig's compliment, "Really?"

"Yea, but I'm about to change my mind if you don't keep moving."

Tweek reached for his thermos, making some sort of strangled noise before silencing himself with a long drink of coffee. Craig said nothing as he watched his friend replace the thermos's lid and then slip the cup back into his holder. His entire body seemed to twitch entirely to the left, but his hands remained steady on the wheel now. He pushed a little too hard on the accelerator, sending the truck shooting forwards before he kicked down on the brake, accidentally stopping the car so that both and he and Craig were propelled forwards a little before being stopped by their seatbelts. The rest of their journey followed this pattern of unexpected bursts of speed followed by quick stops that Craig was sure were damaging his tires like he-didn't-even-want-to-know. Just as the sun was starting to melt into the horizon, a faded blue truck skidded to a halt opposite an equally rundown house. Inside the car, everything was silent.

"That..," started Craig, straightening up after having just been shot forwards by another one of Tweek's less-than-smooth stops, "…was one of my most fucked up ideas ever."

"What!?" exclaimed Tweek, looking fearful, "I'm sorry, I didn't think…! I mean, if you, but I thought that, oh Jesus I knew, I knew this was…I knew, uh…C-Craig?"

"_Haha!_ Oh _man_, that was fuckin' _great_!" laughed Craig, un-clicking his seatbelt. Tweek was beyond confused now. It was already one thing to see his friend showing emotion, and it was another all together to see him almost having mood swings. "You actually got us here…alive." He grinned at Tweek, who felt the same twist in his stomach, "Fuckin' insane."

"Heh, yea," replied Tweek nervously, struggling to unfasten his seatbelt. Craig's laughter died down until the only sounds in the truck was the small click of Tweek's belt before it slid slowly across his chest to hang at his side. Both of them were looking towards the green house across the street, neither of them saying a word. The silence had stretched on long enough when Tweek was about to admit that he should leave, only to have Craig talk first.

"You know those books?" he started, moving his eyes from the McCormick's house to Tweek, "Those chicken soup for the soul ones?"

"Er, yes?" replied Tweek, fingers drumming along the side of his thermos.

"My mom is like obsessed with them. I used to read 'em when I was little." He paused, "I've always wanted to write to them."

"What?"

"Yea, it'd be so easy, you know? Just write about your friend dying from leukemia or your divorced parents or something like that."

"Oh…yea but, but you don't have dead friends, or divorced parents," replied Tweek, a small crease forming in his forehead as his eyebrows reached towards each other in his confusion.

"No shit. That's not the point, it's just like…no one would even know." Craig sighed and leaned back in his seat, "Everyone would read it and be all 'oh wow this is so sad!' That's weird, you know? Like the only stories anyone reads in that book are the ones where people die cuz of cancer or car crashes or something."

"Shit!"

Craig started at the curse, looking back towards Tweek, "What?"

"Augh! Is that why you did this!? You're trying to kill me! Jesus Christ you just want me to crash and die so you can write a story about it for some cook book!? Christ!"

Craig stared at Tweek for a second, his mouth hanging open before he started laughing again, "What the fuck? Don't be stupid, man, that's totally unrelated…nah, I was just…thinking, sort of."

Tweek shook his head, "You, you know people think _I'm_ the screwed up one."

"People are always wrong."

The silence had crept back in, leaving Craig turned towards the passenger window and Tweek squirming uncomfortably.

"I…I should go," he said for the second time that night, pushing his door open, and half-tripping his way out. Now on the ground, he looked even shorter as he peered back into the truck, "Thanks for the, uh, _lesson_." He smiled, but Craig was still looking away, "Uhm…see you."

He turned, checking both ways before darting across the road, thermos tucked under his arm like a football. It wasn't until he made it to the other side did he hear the light slam of a car door shutting. He felt like he was watching himself through a glass wall as he hopped up the front steps and knocked lightly on the door – too hard and it'd probably fall backwards – and stepped inside after being greeted by Mrs. McCormick, to find Kenny waiting in the living room. He was hardly listening when Kenny apologized again, then suggested maybe they go visit the arcade. He wasn't even aware he'd nodded 'yes,' as they made their way back outside and towards the shared car that the McCormick's used. Kenny moved straight towards the driver's side while Tweek moved to sit in the passenger's side, feeling almost disappointed. He wasn't sure what Kenny was even saying as he backed out too quickly, almost hitting the truck parked across from the house. He shook his head, taking a gulp of coffee to soothe his shaking body – where was his mind, anyway?

xxx

Craig had turned his head back towards Tweek's direction, just as he started half-running across the road. He felt the corner of his mouth prick up. Of course Tweek would be almost running, he was always talking about road rage and car crashes and the possibility of getting run over. When they'd been younger, they'd all played things like foursquare and soccer in the middle of the street, and sometimes Tweek would sit off on the side, his head swiveling from left to right the whole game as he kept watch for cars…

_Damn it, _thought Craig, _what am I doing here? _He reached over to shut the driver's door, looking up in time to see Tweek disappear inside the McCormick's house. He felt as if someone had just struck a match inside him. He shifted over to sit in the driver's seat, finding his knees almost squashed by the wheel. He reached to the side to lower the seat, thinking about Tweek sitting in it just moments before – he'd looked adorably awkward, small and shaking with his feet just reaching the pedals.

_Adorable_, thought Craig again, shaking his head as he reached for the key still trapped in the ignition, _What's wrong with me? I _am _the screwed up one. _He looked up. _Gillian's going to wonder why I'm taking so long. _Still, it wasn't until he saw Tweek disappear into Kenny's car and vanish further down the road, that Craig finally pushed the key forwards, listening to the roaring of the engine as he struggled to ignore his own thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hm, so I've had worries about chapter. I've gone through and re-edited it like three times but it still seems off to me. I can't really get rid of the parts that worry me because they were basically the first two things that came to my head and helped me shape the story when I got the idea for this thing. _Warning _- some (mild) violence in this chapter.

Just wanted to say thanks to those of you who reviewed; seriously, I've spent way too much time re-reading reviews than writing chapters. Just wanted to let y'all know I really appreciate it!

* * *

"Come on!" Kenny was laughing, shoving a half-empty bottle in his face. The arcade had been fun for maybe all of ten, fifteen minutes. Then the bar across from them started to look a little more appealing – at least for Kenny, it had. With his fake ID in tow, it'd taken him a mere manner of minutes to obtain enough beers to get even Eric Cartman, with his immense body weight, totally smashed.

"Augh! No, no thanks," replied Tweek, preferring his coffee over the beer that Kenny was swinging in front of his face.

"C'mon Tweeky, you need to lighten up some!"

He watched as his ride home continued to down more of some brand-name beer that Tweek felt tasted even worse than his dad's coffee. He knew this for a fact because Kenny had practically forced some of it down him earlier, and now Tweek was still trying to get rid of the taste that to him seemed like warm liquidiated horse radish. He felt himself sinking lower and lower in his seat, wondering how he had ended up at a bar with his half-drunk boyfriend-esque acquaintance.

"Hey, I'm gonna go refill, okay?" he said, tapping Kenny on the shoulder to get his attention while motioning to his thermos with the other hand. Kenny moved back a little, a crazy grin on his face that seemed to indicate he was hardly even seeing Tweek.

"Yea? That's cool, that's cool."

His thermos wasn't even empty as he pushed his chair back and made his way out of the bar, twitching nervously at the sight of almost every other patron he accidentally made eye contact with. _What _was he doing there?

He wandered through the mall, making his way to the nearest coffee shop. Usually his quest for coffee was filled either euphoria or desperation. Now, though, as he made his way past the strangely quiet shops, he felt neither in his almost pointless wandering. He just wanted to get away, away from all the beer and the rowdy red-necks and the bar and...Kenny?

He wandered into the shop. He didn't know it was called (something with a moose in the title?), but then, he didn't really bother with names. What he did know was that this particular establishment boasted five different drink sizes, a small array of pastries including three types of danishes, two types of cookies and three different brownies, ten signature coffees and up to twenty various types of extra ingredients or condiments to mix into them.

It was nearing twelve as Tweek stood on the other side of the counter, his neck craned upward as he studied the menu tacked above him. A coffeehouse staple, it was a blackboard with the drink names written in chalk.

"You ready to order?"

He snapped his head in the direction of the voice. A young man, probably around his age, was standing lazily across the counter, tying back his apron as he waited for Tweek's response.

"Gah!" The cashier raised an eyebrow, "Uh, ye-e-es?"

"O-o-okay," replied the young man, "What'll it be then?"

"Arg, okay, can I get a white chocolate mocha?" asked Tweek, pulling at his shirt's collar.

"Size?"

"Large."

"Two-percent?"

"Sure – geh!"

"Whipped cream?"

"Yea—nng!—thanks."

"Alright," he watched as the cashier rang up his order. It felt almost sacrilegious to order at a place other than Harbucks or Tweak Bros., but he was hardly about to walk all the way home just to get a cup of coffee. "That'll be 4.25"

He rummaged though his wallet for about two seconds before extracting a gift card for what he thought was the correct place. Whenever holidays or his birthday came around he found himself showered in gift cards to local coffee shops by Clyde and Token, and occasionally Craig when he was feeling bothered to get a gift. He took the card as the other man handed it back to him and then shuffled off to the side as he waited for his drink. He took it wordlessly as it was handed to him and moved over to a small table near the shops' front window, grateful for the lid they had placed over the beverage. He hated the places where they didn't cap their drinks. His constant fidgeting had lost him more than a few good coffees, and he had mourned the loss of every one.

The mall was a weird place on late Friday nights. That is to say, it was, for some inexplicable reason, mostly empty. Already half of the stores had been closed, their entrances guarded by curtains of metal bars. The glossy floors lay bare, marked by unused benches and mall maps. Through the mall roof's windows, Tweek could just make out a few stars.

Was he really running away from Kenny? He took a sip of his drink, glancing at the empty chair across from him. If he was at the point where he'd rather sit alone in a coffee shop and have bored baristas stare at him for the weird vibrating freak he couldn't help but feel he was, than be with Kenny, then maybe it, whatever "it" was, was over.

_Or it's just the bar_, he thought, rubbing off the whipped cream that had attached itself to his nose, _He likes them, I…don't. Maybe that's all it is_. Still, he couldn't help but tug at his hair a little at the thought.

_I wish Craig was here. _

He finished his drink in silence, before admitting to himself that he had better head back to the bar to make sure Kenny didn't forget about him and leave him to get home by himself. _Jesus, I'd have to hitchhike or something, and then I'd probably get raped and murdered and my body parts would get sold on the black market, Christ! _He sped up his walk, the hem of his shirt tight in his twisting grasp.

Kenny hadn't forgotten about him. In fact, it would have been relatively hard for him to get up and abandon Tweek at the moment because he was passed out on the counter. A small assortment of glass bottles rested at his feet, another tilted in his hand against his mouth, as if he had fallen unconscious just as he had been about to take another sip.

"Kenny?" said Tweek into his ear, beginning to shake him roughly. "Kenny!"

"Mmmlea'me'lone," he murmured, raising his arm in a half-effort to swat away whoever was attempting to wake him up.

"Nng, yea, much as I'd love to have a sleepover in a bar," hissed Tweek, jabbing Kenny in the side. Kenny shouted something as he snapped upright, looking around him and seemingly surprised to see Tweek standing there.

"Eh, what?" he yawned, and Tweek wrinkled his nose at the stench, "What time is it?"

"Twelve something?"

"Shit…let's go."

Kenny slid from his stool and onto the floor, Tweek moving forwards as if to catch him, but gravity proved to have too strong a hold on him.

"Goddamn what'm I doing down here?" muttered Kenny from the floor, raising a hand to the bar counter and using it to help him hoist himself up, "Shit, where's my Tweek?"

"…I'm over here Kenny."

Kenny turned, grinning at the sight of him. "Alriiight, let's go."

They'd stumbled their way down to the parking lot, where Tweek grew increasingly worried of Kenny's current state. He had even offered to drive, to which Kenny had looked at him as if Tweek had just offered to shuttle them to the moon. "You mus' be fuckin' kidding me," he'd said, grinning, "Like that's even legal."

_Like the five beers you just drank were legal. _

Regardless, through some wide stroke of luck, Kenny managed to make it to Tweek's house without killing the two of them.

"Thanks," said Tweek, not even sure what he had to be grateful for as he exited the car and moved onto the sidewalk in front of his house.

"Hey, where're you goin'?"

"Home?" he replied, turning to see Kenny.

"A'ite, c'mere first."

Wary, Tweek crossed back over to the car. Kenny had rolled down the window on his side and as soon as he was within arms reach, Kenny had grabbed Tweek by his frayed collar and pulled him forwards, almost smashing Tweek's face into his own in one of his trademark drunk kisses.

"See you tomorrow," he grinned, releasing a dazed looking Tweek. He reached out and slapped Tweek's butt before slamming on the accelerator, disappearing down the road.

xxx

"_Strike three! You're out!_"

"Wha-what?"

"You heard 'em Tweak, you're out!"

He couldn't even remember the first two pitches, but the coach was yelling at him and some other kid was standing to the side, waiting for the bat. _Clearly I missed something_, thought Tweek as he moved off to sit and watch the rest of practice from the sidelines. Honestly, he hated baseball. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to chuck balls at people in the first place? But his dad…Tweek rolled his eyes, twirling a strand of grass at his feet. His dad had always been pushing him towards the game, and it made him happy enough to come and see his son playing, even if Tweek was only up for the amount of time it took the other team to strike him out.

"Rough practice?"

Tweek twisted his neck to look around, a shaky grin spreading across his face at the sight of Craig, sweaty from football practice (South Park didn't follow the regular rules for what seasons sports were supposed to play in) walking towards him.

"Nah. Just boring, as usual. What're you doing out of practice already?"

Craig shrugged, "It ended early."

"…Oh."

He laughed, "What did you expect?"

Craig, like Tweek, had no actual interest in the sport he was playing. Tweek was well aware of the fact that his friend would much rather be sitting off in a park, fiddling with his camera or something, than tackling other football players. Craig's dad had basically bullied his son into sports to make sure he didn't "end up like your poofy friend." Unfortunately he'd ended up doing rather brilliantly in the sport since he ended up taking out all his anger on the football and teammates, so he was continuously guilted and bullied into continuing the sport.

"So, are you done?"

"_I _am," replied Tweek, digging his hands into the surrounding grass, "But I'm sure the coach is going to want to yell at us some more before we can leave. Jesus!"

He looked up, startled, to see Craig moving to sit down on the grass next to him. Tweek pulled off his hat, twisting it in his hands. Now on eye-level, Craig seemed to perform a sort of double-take when he looked towards Tweek.

"Wow," he said, eyebrows raised, "You look like shit."

"Agh! What!?"

"Yea, you okay?"

"What do I look like!? Do you have a mirror? Jesus, _I _don't, oh man, am I sick? Are my eyes bleeding? Shit, I have Ebola! Oh Christ! Augh!"

"Woah, woah, stop – _stop_." Craig reached up to grab Tweek's arms, as the anxious teen had already gone to work at ripping out his hair, "No, you don't have Ebola. If you had Ebola, I'd tell you, right?"

Tweek took a few wavering gulps of air, noticing that Craig still seemed to have a firm grasp on his wrists, "Yes?"

"Damn straight," nodded Craig, reaching into his pocket, "I don't have a mirror, sorry, but this might work."

With his newly freed arms, Tweek took the reflective lighter his friend was handing to him, holding it horizontal as he moved it towards his face. Staring back at him through the smudged silver was a distorted version of himself, although he had hardly noticed the dark rings developing around his eyes as he had rushed out the house that morning, nor the fact that his hair was even more disheveled than usual. He had a sort of unhealthy look hanging around him. With a shiver, he handed the lighter back to Craig, who accepted it wordlessly.

"Thanks," muttered Tweek, who had gone back to tearing up the grass around him since any attempt at reaching for his own hair would obviously be blocked. Craig nodded next to him as the two waited for Tweek's practice to come to an official close. The second the coach began to mouth the beginning of his closing statement (he always ended practice the same way 'get out there, get a good night's sleep and a good breakfast and keep practicing!'), Tweek had already shot off to the bench where all the water bottles and his thermos sat, Craig following behind him at a much slower pace. For some reason the coach had decided to ban Tweek from drinking coffee during practices and games. The two hours he had to go coffee-less every Saturday were always brutal for him. By the time he'd reached the bench, Tweek had already downed more than half of his thermos's contents.

"Ready now?" asked Craig. Traditionally, the two would leave and walk home from practice together.

"Oh, yea, but, I'm…I'm going…not home," replied Tweek, turning to grab his bag, only to find Craig had already hoisted it over his own shoulder.

"Kenny's again?" He frowned, noticing when Tweek seemed to wince at his reply, "Yea, I figured."

"But…we can go the long way?"

Craig grinned, looking down to see Tweek smiling shyly back up at him, "Sure."

The long way entailed leaving the field from the left, which would lead them towards Stark Pond and then to the small patch of forest beyond that, instead of just cutting through the nearby parking lot and following the streets home. It was already 3 o'clock as they began their trek towards the pond, a small gathering of dark clouds beginning to move in. Tweek was not looking forwards to what he anticipated would be the second snowfall of the week.

Stark Pond was entirely frozen over, as usual, when they made their way past it. The pond was marked with the various skating forms of young children, and Tweek and Craig both found themselves drawn towards them, slowing their walk as they neared the lake.

"Man," muttered Craig, standing on the edge of the pond, "Remember when that was us?"

"Nng! Are you kidding!? Like I would go skating, Jesus Christ, kids with little knives on the bottom of their shoes…" replied Tweek, just as a second grader skated by them. The child turned around to give Tweek a strange look before turning too quickly so that he slipped and fell. Craig made no effort to hide his laughter at the younger boy.

"Yea, these kids aren't you," he looked up, scanning the lake's shore, before his eyes came to rest on another small boy who was standing on the bank, looking nervous as his eyes kept moving from the frozen water to his gesturing friends, who seemed to be trying to persuade the boy to come with them. "That's you. Bet you five bucks that kid falls on his ass two minutes after he gets on the lake."

"He doesn't look like he's getting on it…"

Craig snorted, "Nah, his friends'll pull him on."

"How do you know?" asked Tweek curiously, moving his head to look at Craig.

He shrugged, "That's what I'd do – look, see? There he goes."

The kid they were watching had his eyes screwed shut as one of his friends took his wrists and guided him over across the ice. Slowly, he opened his eyes and, upon seeing that everything was well and he was not dead, he grew excited, even letting go of his friend's hands in an attempt to move on his own. He had hardly moved one foot forwards when he began to teeter on one skate, before falling over backwards.

"Did you see that?" laughed Craig, slapping Tweek on the back before starting to walk away, "Right on his ass."

But Craig wasn't the only one laughing. The little boy, whom Tweek was still watching in some sort of fascination, had sat stunned for a second, shocked and confused to find himself on the ground, before opening his mouth and beginning to laugh.

_That's not me._

"Hey!" Tweek jumped, tearing his gaze from the lake of young skaters to see Craig, who had continued walking away before, striding back towards him, "You okay?"

"Eh, yea."

"Okay…" From the look on his face, Tweek could tell that Craig clearly did not believe him. Nevertheless, he didn't question Tweek again as he turned and continued into the woods, Tweek following after him as they traced the aging dirt path that wound past Stark Pond and through the small patch of woods to the left. The forest was quiet, its trees and rocks highlighted by the snow from two days ago. They were halfway through when Tweek found the top of his thermos jammed as he struggled to unscrew it, the stubborn lid refusing to yield.

"Lemme see," said Craig, reaching for the container while moving to sit down on a nearby log. Tweek went to sit down next to him, brushing snow off before he sat down.

"Christ!" exclaimed Craig, trying to twist it open, "The hell did you do to this?"

"Augh! I don't know! Jesus Christ it won't open! I'll never get any coffee again, oh God!"

"Woah, dude, you're going to go bald early if you don't stop that," said Craig, dropping the thermos to grab Tweek's tearing hands away from his hair again.

"Shit, shit…I'm sorry," sighed the shaking teen, bending forwards a little, "Can I…can I ask you a question, Craig?"

Craig raised his eyebrows, briefly perplexed by his friend's tone and question, "Yea, of course."

"It's…it's kinda weird," he replied, coiling the hem of his shirt nervously.

"You can ask me anything, man," said Craig, reaching to grab the thermos he had previously dropped, "You know that."

"Why…why are you friends with me?"

Craig stopped, turning to gaze at Tweek who was looking down.

"I mean, why do you keep me around?"

"Well…I don't really know," started Craig uneasily, "I just, you know, we kinda…click. I don't know how I end up with freaks like you and Clyde." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, but Tweek could only offer a brief half-smile in return. Craig's face turned serious again, "What's up with you?"

"Ehrg, I don't know…I'm just…" Tweek sighed loudly again, lowering his head into his hands. For a second, he was silent. Craig was about to speak again when Tweek suddenly launched himself into a mile-a-minute explanation. "I don't know! When I came to your house it was after Kenny tried to…he was on me and I said no and I left and went to you and I thought, I don't know what I thought but then it seemed like it was okay, like it didn't matter because I went to school the next day and he was fine, so I thought I was fine, but then when I thought it was okay he just, like he forgot about me and we went to a bar and I left and came back and he was passed out, like he didn't even care and he's just, I don't know! I never know and this time I _really _don't know and I haven't slept for three days and now my thermos won't open and I'm _so _fuckingtired!"

His face was red when he looked up, pronouncing the dark bags beneath his eyes. He was twitching violently and Craig, not entirely sure how to comfort his clearly distressed friend, slowly moved to drape his arm across Tweek's shoulders. Tweek, in his anger and frustration, hardly even paused to think how abnormal this was for Craig, instead reacting almost instinctively in moving his own head against Craig's shoulder.

Tweek hardly seemed to notice as Craig pulled him in tighter, his eyes downcast. He moved his head a little on Craig's shoulder, feeling the fabric of his friend's sweatshirt rub against his cheek. One of the ear flaps of Craig's hat was leaned against Tweek's hair; he could see it if he strained his eyes upwards. He thought Craig might have said something, but he wasn't sure. Slowly Tweek closed his eyes, feeling the tired weight that hung around his shoulders slip and fall, and the last things he noticed were Craig's shoes, and how quiet and unmoving the forest was, like no one (_not even Kenny_) could ever find them there, and then world seemed to just fade away.

xxx

Slowly, unwillingly, his senses came back to him – he didn't want to open his eyes, so he kept them closed and allowed himself to re-familiarize himself with his surroundings through other senses. He was aware that he was sitting, leaning, against something. It smelled like Clorox and cigarettes, and it felt warm. He could feel a slight chill blowing against his face, nudging his hair against his closed eyes and nose. With a short yawn, Tweek blinked open his eyes, and saw that it was much darker than it had been before, with streaks of purple and red traced across the sky. He stayed still, watching the silhouettes of the forest darken against the fire-painted sky, until it began to dawn on him that if it was dark, that only lended to the fact that no doubt time had passed. He jumped up then, staring wildly as if the time would present itself to him amongst the trees – it couldn't have been _that _late, he'd only closed his eyes for a second, hadn't he?

"Morning sunshine."

He whirled around. Craig was grinning up at him while shaking his right arm awake.

"I – what?"

"You fell asleep."

"How long!? Christ, what time is it?"

Craig shrugged, "I dunno, three, four hours?"

"_Three _– why didn't you wake me up!?"

"You said you hadn't slept for three fuckin' days! Why the hell would I wake you up?"

"You…you've just been sitting there? The whole time!?"

"Jesus, Tweek, if I'd known it was going to give you a fuckin' ulcer…"

"No, I just, I'm supposed to go, I'm supposed…"

"Oh," Craig rose from the log, brushing snow from his pants, "Yea, Kenny's."

"Late! I'm so late, four hours, Christ!"

"'_I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!'_" said Craig in a sing-song voice.

Tweek stared. "Wha…What!?"

"Nothing," replied Craig, waving his hand absently as he slung his bag over his shoulder and moved to grab Tweek's.

"No," said Tweek, moving to hoist his bag over his back before his friend could reach it, "Nhng! – I'm sorry, but, but I've gotta…Christ! Four hours!"

"Tweek," started Craig, but before he could say anything else, Tweek had turned and bolted down the trail, still muttering exclamations under his breath. Craig sighed and watched his retreating form before looking down, surprised to see Tweek's thermos still in his hands.

xxx

_Late…so late…dammit!_

It was all that was racing through Tweek's mind as he hopped up the front steps of the McCormick's home. He rapped quickly on the door in his signature desperate knock, but there was no reply. His mouth felt dry as he leaned back to check the driveway. The car wasn't there, but then, it usually wasn't anyways, seeing as it was a shared vehicle. Tweek had let himself in before, but he'd always been expected then – on time.

_I can't just blow him off completely_, thought Tweek, practically dancing in his agitation, _I gotta go in._

He tapped on the door again and, when he continued to receive no response, spread his hand out on the front door and pushed. It slid open on rusty hinges, causing Tweek to cringe at the loud creak produced. No doubt anyone inside would have been alerted to his presence now. He stepped delicately inside the house, as if any wrong step would set off an alarm. Once within, he looked anxiously back at the open door, which was letting in small trails of flakes as the predicted snowstorm began to set in. Regretfully, Tweek shut the door, his worry increasing as the door creaked to a halt.

The house was quiet but for the low volume on the living room's TV, the screen casting a blue glare across the back wall of the room that Tweek was currently making his way into.

"Hello?" he asked timidly, becoming sharply aware of the fact that he couldn't find his thermos anywhere on him as he clawed at the air around him, half-expecting the container to suddenly materialize for him.

"What?" someone called out in a voice that Tweek recognized as Kenny's, "Who'sthur?"

"Kenny?" he asked, moving further into the room. An orange shape with dirty blonde hair suddenly appeared over the couch as the disheveled Kenny heaved himself up. He narrowed his eyes.  
"Whazzut?"

Tweek very nearly rolled his eyes. Of course, Kenny was drunk. As if the bloodshot eyes and scattered beer bottles weren't enough of a hint before. It would be best if he just got out of there, Tweek realized. Leaving an intoxicated Kenny would hardly be the same as leaving a sober one. Drunk, Kenny was hardly the same person.

"Tweek?"

He froze. He hadn't entirely been expecting him to be coherent enough to recognize who he was. Hopefully he'd at least be drunk enough to be unable to realize it was –

"Whereee the _fuck _were you?"

Kenny pushed himself off the couch, beginning a slow advance towards Tweek, who could almost feel his heart rate spiking as he retreated into the wall.

"I, I'm sorry I would've called – ghn! I f-fell asleep."

"Youu were with _Craig_," slurred Kenny. It wasn't a question, and despite his still being halfway across the room, Tweek could already smell the alcohol on his breath. At this point, it was a miracle Kenny was even standing as he continued to stagger forwards, until he was barely an inch away from Tweek.

"Augh! Yes, but, it's not like," Tweek's eyes widened, his hands already tugging away at his hair, "You don't, don't think I'd – he'd – that we'd – I mean, we, just, we're just –"

"Shit," breathed Kenny, sending a rush of the putrid smell rolling towards Tweek. "Tha' _bastard,_" his eyes flicked towards Tweek, "_You_ bastard."

"Kenny, really, I d—"

For someone with enough liquor in them to convince Mr. Slave he was straight, Kenny had surprising accuracy in landing his punch where he wanted: the left side of Tweek's face.

"Ah!" cried Tweek, more out of surprise and shock than actual pain, though there was plenty of that. The force of the blow slammed back into the wall, giving Tweek just enough time to manage ducking as Kenny swung for his face again.

"You been fuckin' 'round with Craig!" he yelled, resorting to kicking.

"Augh! Shit, Kenny, you're drunk!" he cried, brain rolling in pain with every new kick.

"Fuckin' 'round with Craig, you sonnavabitch!"

Tweek was on the floor, curled up in a defensive ball with his head tucked between his arms. Kenny was still yelling, but it was more like indecipherable drunken shouting at this point. His kicking, however, remained strong, and Tweek could feel his eyes growing hot. The back of his throat was sore as he choked back the cries of pain that were threatening to escape. He could think of nothing to do as he lay on the floor, each blow sending a new wave of pain and confusion. And meanwhile he was just a weak, good-for-nothing, caffeine addict who couldn't even defend himself from a drunken idiot.

_IwantoutIwantoutIwantout!_

And then all he could think of was Craig, and if Craig _was _there and he'd just be ashamed, Tweek knew it he knew it, knew Craig would walk in and see Tweek and just shake his head and leave again because who in their right mind would stay around to help out _Tweek _of all people and he could see it, he could just see Craig shaking his head and not even looking at him and leaving him forever.

_So get out. _

He wasn't sure where it came from, just that Tweek suddenly realized he didn't want to be a pathetic lump on the ground who had resigned himself to simply being abused. He felt another kick make contact with his side and, with his eyes screwed shut, Tweek brought his legs together and kicked out with as much force as he could muster. He heard a sort of grunt, and when he opened his eyes, saw Kenny had fallen backwards and onto the ground. For a second, Tweek didn't move. Then he saw Kenny making an effort to get up again, and he scrambled quickly to his feet, limping out the door as fast as he could.

There was no question in his mind as to where he was going as he stumbled down the front steps and into the cold.

xxx

"Man, what took you?" asked Clyde, stomping his feet on the doormat to rid his boots of the clinging snow.

"Sorry, I forgot I had to take Gilly to her friend's birthday party," replied Craig, shutting the door after Clyde. From the kitchen, Gillian could hear her brother but made no effort to point out his lie, thanks to the extra five dollars she had recently acquired and now had tucked in her pocket.

"And that took like four hours?" Craig flipped him off, and the two retreated to the living room, where Craig had only just reached for the remote control when the doorbell rang, followed two seconds after by a rapid knock on the door.

"Sounds like Tweek," grinned Clyde. Craig, however, was serious as he retraced his steps back to the door.

"I just saw him two seconds ago, he was going to Kenny's…Bet he realized I have his thermos."

"Dude how did you get that away from him?" asked Clyde as he followed Craig. He didn't answer, though, as he swung open the door to reveal a bruised and shivering person on his doorstep. It took both of them a few seconds to realize who it was.

"Tweek!" shouted Craig, grabbing and pulling him into the warmth of his home, Clyde looking somewhat scared as he closed the door. "What – what happened?"

Tweek's left eye was shut, the left side of his face purple and swollen. He walked with a limp and he winced when Craig had grabbed him around his waist. He continued to tug absently at his shirt, his mind dizzy as he struggled to answer.

"Tweek, _Tweek_," Craig was holding Tweek's head now, his chin cupped in Craig's hands, "What happened?"

"M-maybe we should get ice…or something," suggested Clyde nervously, but he didn't move.

"Was it Kenny?" asked Craig, his voice low.

"What?" muttered Tweek, his voice faint.

"Look at me! Tweek!" But he seemed unable to comply with Craig's orders. His eyes seemed to slide out of focus, his ears seemingly unable to register what Craig was saying. Clyde was standing to the side, looking unsure as to what he should be doing.

And then Tweek was on the ground, his body twitching and seizing in a very un-Tweek like manner as his eyes rolled back in their sockets to reveal only white slits, and Craig's hands were left holding only air.


	4. Chapter 4

It was as if someone had pulled the plug on his brain. When he looked back on it, Craig's mind couldn't seem to ever settle on the exact sequence of events. Clyde might have shouted, he thought Gillian might have said something to him. He remembered feeling a hand on his shoulder. Someone must have dialed 911 because sirens started to cut through the night. What had he done, Craig had asked himself, what he had he done while they all waited for the help to come? Had he said anything? Had he tried to stop anything? Was it because of him, had it been his fault? And then there were strangers in his home and they were taking _him_.

Amidst all of it, Tweek was the only thing that stood out, like a lantern in the fog. His arched back, his fingers curling and uncurling, the way he thrashed about like a fish out of water, completely helpless. His thin body was trapped in convulsions, and at one point he kicked out at a small end table. It fell sideways, the vase upon it sliding off. Craig didn't remember the crash as it smashed into the floor.

He'd tried to follow them, tried to follow as they took his friend and loaded him into the back of an ambulance, but one of the EMT's had stopped him, insisting 'family only.' That was when Clyde said he and Gillian had had to run out and hold Craig back. He did remember that part – the sick, desperate feeling clawing at his chest, as he struggled against Clyde and Gillian who had only been able to restrain him by jumping up and toppling him to the ground. His chin was buried in the fresh snow, his eyes just able to make out the receding ambulance from his sideways view. The cold stung his cheeks and seeped into his clothes, and it was hard to breathe with more than two hundred pounds on his back, but all he could feel was the cloud of confusion and distress that seemed to creep into him and expand until he was left to lie there in the snow, long after Clyde and Gillian had dismounted, long after Tweek was gone from sight, still immune to the cold.

xxx

Tweek didn't remember anything. He didn't understand why he had been in a hospital bed, why people were telling me he'd had a seizure. _Oh no_, he had told the doctors_, I think I'd remember if I had a seizure._

_Actually, no_, they had replied, confusing Tweek even further_, some lasting effects generally include memory loss. _Tweek had no response to that. The injuries he had sustained from Kenny's were assumed to be self-inflicted, as a result of his probably rolling and hitting things during his seizure, and Tweek decided not to contradict this.

A smell-less hospital bed, series of uncomfortable tests and questions, and disturbingly long lack of coffee later, Tweek found himself shuffling back up the front steps to his home, his parents following quickly behind, showering him with questions and ideas about his comfort. _Are you tired? Are you dizzy? Would you like something to drink? What do you want for dinner? We want you to rest, now, just rest! Is the TV bothering you? We can turn it off, would you like some extra pillows?_

As if regular everyday questions hadn't been enough to drive Tweek close to insanity, this new, consistent pestering was enough to make him want to tear his brain out. This being implausible, he'd resorted to ripping out his hair more frequently than before. It became a common occurrence for the next few days to find little clumps of blond tufts upon the house's floor. His parents had kept him home from school, for which Tweek was both upset about and grateful for. For one thing, there was no one he wanted to see more than Craig, Clyde and Token, if only to ensure that although he had fallen to pieces, the rest of the world hadn't. But an unavoidable disadvantage to returning would be confronting Kenny. So for a week, when his mother had hesitantly asked him if he felt up to going to school, Tweek had lied, and she, overcome with maternal affection and worry for her only child, had quickly agreed that he better stay home, at least for one more day.

It didn't matter. Because the next time Tweek saw Kenny, it wasn't even a school day, but a Saturday afternoon, a week after his hospital visit. The loneliness that had been drilling into him all week had finally become too much for him to bear so, after an hour of fighting to persuade his mom that he felt perfectly capable of leaving the house and returning alive, he slipped on his shoes and moved to open the back door to his house.

"Augh, Christ!" he exclaimed, jumping back, "What are you doing here?"

Kenny, his arm half raised as though he had been about to knock on the door, took a step back, looking startled.

"Tweek? Honey, are you okay?" drifted his mother's concerned voice from the kitchen.

"Fine! Fine!" he replied, his voice strained as he moved outside quickly, shutting the door behind him. Had another second passed he was sure his mother would have been there to quote more of the medical research she had recently been acquiring on her late-night wikipedia searches.

"So…" started Kenny, eyes staring painfully away. He had his hands buried in his pockets, his cheeks lit with pink from the cold. "I heard…what happened. Are you okay?"

Tweek stared back, wishing Kenny would meet his gaze, "Yea—nhng—I'm fine." He twitched violently, splashing some of the coffee from his paper cup over his hands; his thermos was still at Craig's.

Kenny smiled slightly, "Back to normal?"

Tweek shrugged, "I guess."

They remained standing on the front steps, neither looking at the other. Tweek busied himself with studying his coffee, wondering how long he would have to remain there before Kenny decided to leave.

"Er, it's, nice you came," started Tweek, his body starting to shiver from the cold instead of his usual quaking, "But…I'm sort of…."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" asked Tweek. Kenny had spoken so softly he'd hardly been able to catch what he had said.

"I'm sorry," repeated Kenny, finally looking up to meet Tweek's eyes, "I was drunk, I don't know…I'm so sorry, Tweek, I just wasn't myself, I would never have hurt…." He hesitated, almost averting his gaze again, "I'm sorry. I won't…if you're mad…that's not even enough." He sighed, "I know I'm probably not the first guy you'd go to but if you ever, if you ever need anything, anything at all – you can ask me, I mean, I owe you, I…" He trailed off, his mouth still hinging up and down as though testing the next words it was looking to say.

"Nng!" replied Tweek, choosing to end Kenny's apology, "I forgive you."

Kenny looked relieved, "So…we're…"

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Just – gck! – fine."

He looked like he was going to say something again, but Tweek shook his head, turning and stumbling down the steps with his back to Kenny. He didn't want to hear anything else the other teen had to say. Kenny was hardly the first person he'd wanted to hear ask him if he was 'okay.'

But as he walked away, he could feel himself almost grow lighter, like some great burden had been shed. It was as though he'd been blind and unsure and now everything was just so painstakingly obvious, it was a wonder he had missed it before. He took a sip of his coffee, his mind lost in thought and realization, as his feet continued to trace a familiar path.

xxx

"Shit! Damn!"

Clyde's exclamations were met with nothing but merciless slaughter as Craig poured virtual bullet after virtual bullet into the head of his soldier, reducing Clyde to a flat computerized mess on the screen.

"Dammit," he muttered again, waiting for his character to respawn as he watched Craig destroy more virtual lives. "Can you give me at least five seconds?"

"Sorry," muttered Craig absently, eyes glazed over as they stared forwards at the television screen. He was hardly paying attention to the game he was currently playing. He had been a mess all week, his untidy hair remaining unhidden by his blue hat, which he hadn't worn all week. He'd been more withdrawn and surly than usual – Butters had been nearly reduced to tears when Craig had gone off on him just for asking to borrow a sheet of paper. Cartman had gotten mad in turn, and Craig had offered to punch him so hard "it'll send the fat flying off your bones, you fucking lardass!"

"So, Craig," started Clyde slowly, moving his reborn soldier through an abandoned building, "I've got a date with Red tonight."

"Yea? Well, fan-freakin'-tastic for you then."

"I'm not done," muttered Clyde, "Anyway, she was sort of wondering if you wanted to come, too…with Heidi."

"What, like a double date?" asked Craig as he chucked a grenade at Clyde's character.

"Yea, like a double date," replied Clyde as his soldier exploded. He chucked the game controller to the side, shifting his position so he was looking at Craig, who still had his eyes level with the TV screen, "Come on man – I mean, Heidi's no Red, but she's pretty hot I guess."

"I care about Heidi about as much as I care about Butters," replied Craig, sending his soldier forth to shoot more players, "Maybe a little less."

Clyde was silent for a second, as if contemplating whether his next words were worth saying.

"You should go see him."

For the first time, Craig tore his gaze from the screen, "Who?"

"Who do you think?" replied Clyde, rolling his eyes as he moved to turn off the game system, "His mom can't keep him locked up forever. I bet if you just went to his house, she'd let you in. Or he would."

Nobody had heard from Tweek for the past week. His mother had decided it was best to keep him secluded, so all attempts at visiting or calling had been met with the calm but firm voice of Mrs. Tweak, insisting that her son be given ample time to recover.

"You think I haven't already tried? His mom's crazy."

"It's been a week."

"Yea," muttered Craig, moving out of the living room. He grabbed Tweek's thermos from the end table, which he had been bringing with him everywhere since it had fallen into his hands, as if he was expecting to need to return it at any second, "See you later Clyde."

"See you," replied Clyde, a little surprised by his hasty exit, though Craig hardly heard it as he moved outside of Clyde's house and to the front sidewalk. Hands in pockets, head tilted downwards, Craig had practically spent his whole life perfecting his "leave me the fuck alone" look. Clyde's transitioning from a refused double date to going to see Tweek had left him a little shaken. Just because he didn't want to go out with Heidi…Clyde was overselling her—personally, Craig found her as attractive as a tray full of school cafeteria slop.

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He'd never noticed how lengthy it was, usually his hat had kept it all in check. He felt the thermos he had tucked under his arm slip a little, and he readjusted his grip. _I should return it, _he thought dully, hardly thinking as he turned the corner. Tweek's house was on the way towards his, and the last thing the kid needed after a seizure was another one due to lack of coffee thermos. The corners of Craig's mouth seemed to pick up a little at this thought.

Tweek had come out publicly pretty much the second he'd realized just where his interests lied, not because he was particularly brave or confident, but because he couldn't handle the pressure. It hadn't been his intention to shout it out and then faint, but Tweek was just unpredictable in that sense, even to himself. And Clyde, Token, and Craig had all calmed him down and assured him that everything was fine, and nothing had changed.

But that had been a lie. Because for Craig something had felt noticeably different, and after watching Tweek being carted off in the ambulance, the torn feeling in his chest had affirmed everything Craig had been suspecting before.

As he turned the corner onto Tweek's street, Craig was no longer the only person with his eyes stuck on the sidewalk and his mind embroiled in other matters. And with two distracted people walking towards each other, it was hardly a surprise they collided with each other.

"Hey!" exclaimed Craig, stepping back, "Watch where you're fucking goi—" He stopped, glaring at who he just realized was Kenny McCormick.

"You weren't looking either," muttered Kenny sullenly.

"Fuck that," replied Craig, fists clenching and unclenching, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Last I checked it was a free country."

"Not for you, not on this street."

"Get out of my way, Craig, I don't have time for this shit."

"You're the one who's shit!" yelled Craig, grabbing the neck of Kenny's shirt, an impressive move considering Craig was shorter by at least half a foot, "After what you did to Tweek, and you've got the _balls _to come walking in here again?"

"Look, I was drunk, I never—"

"_Oh_, so you were _drunk. _Well the fact that you were fucking stupid enough to drown your nonexistent brain in alcohol makes it all _okay_."

"I don't owe _you _anything," snarled Kenny, moving his hands forward to shove Craig back. He'd hardly made the effort before Craig had let go, only to swing his right fist crashing into Kenny's jaw. Kenny staggered backwards, gingerly fingering his jaw, his face portraying shock for a split-second.

"Just do us a favor – stay _away _from Tweek," spat Craig. He remained still for a moment, then shoved past Kenny, who stood only glaring at Craig's back.

xxx

The picket fence with the peeling paint, already rundown after only a year of its mounting. The brown snow-covered bushes, coupled with the equally patchy lawn illuminated only by small colonies of weeds. The cracked walkway to the molded concrete steps, crowned by a bare, unfriendly door. Hanging shutters by curtained windows.

Tweek stood at the gate, taking in every aspect of the house as if it was his last visit. It was plain, in some cases seriously neglected, but Tweek would have it no other way. He liked to think that the house, in its standoffish, unkempt exterior, didn't care. That the dying lawn and shabby front was its own way of giving the finger to the rest of the block's trim, conforming homes.

Tweek pushed open the front gate, jumping when the hinges gave way suddenly to send the gate falling to its side. He made his way up the front steps and knocked hesitantly on the door, again jumping when the door opened almost immediately to reveal Craig's father.

"Augh! Um, ah, h-hello Mr. Nommel," greeted Tweek, shrinking a little beneath Mr. Nommel's un-approving gaze.

"What do you want?"

"I was wondering if, if Craig's here?"

"He's not home." Craig's father's blunt, indifferent tone easily told Tweek that he was an unwelcome visit.

"Oh…" They stood there for a moment, Tweek conscious of the fact that he was tearing at his hair again. But Craig wasn't there to stop him, to hold his hand and tell him it was okay, "Do…do you know where—"

"No."

"…Do you know—"

"_Dad_," came a different, higher voice. Tweek stopped as he watched another person appear in the doorframe. Gillian, in paint-spattered overalls and hands covered so thickly in paint that it took Tweek a second to realize she wasn't wearing gloves, was staring up at her father. "Don't be so _rude_," she quipped, rolling her eyes before turning to Tweek, "I think Craig went to Clyde's, but he's coming home soon – he's going to help me with my art project!" She grinned, then stepped back a little, "Come on, you can wait inside!"

"Gillian…" started Mr. Nommel.

"Whatever, dad," muttered Gillian, flipping off her dad as Tweek hesitantly shuffled inside, avoiding Mr. Nommel's gaze.

"Come on, I can make some coffee – that's like, all you drink, right?" asked Gillian, not waiting for a response as she led Tweek to the kitchen, going over to the sink and turning on the faucet to wash her hands. Tweek watched in fascination as her hands stained the steady stream of water so that it matched the paint covering her skin, "I might need some help, I mean, Craig's really the only one who makes coffee."

"Craig doesn't even like coffee," replied Tweek, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, eyes darting about the room.

"Duh, he doesn't make it for _himself_," replied Gillian, grinning towards Tweek over her shoulder. Tweek couldn't decide what to make of this comment, so he said:

"You're a – ghn! — a painter?"

"For fun," replied Gillian, drying off her blue-tainted hands as she grabbed a bag of coffee grounds from one of the cabinets and then moved to fill up their coffee pot with water, "I'm not really good, but Craig always says I am." She stuck out her tongue a little as she measured the amount of coffee grounds to use, "He's supposed to help me with this project for my art class. We have to do a portrait, so he's gonna let me paint him. Pretty brave of him." She finished setting up the coffee pot, and soon the soft gurgle-like sound of brewing coffee became noticeable.

"So-o-o," said Gillian, slipping into a chair at the kitchen table across from Tweek, "You can sit down, you know. I'm not sure if Craig ever told you this, but these chairs we have in here are actually here _just _for that purpose." She smiled.

"Er, I, I know what chairs are for," replied Tweek stupidly as he moved to sit.

"I heard about your seizure thing," said Gillian, twirling a strand of brilliant red hair around her finger, "Sorry about that. Are you okay?"

"Aghck! Yea, I'm fine, thanks."

"Nice eye," said Gillian, referring to the black eye Tweek now sustained, thanks to Kenny, "I heard about that, too."

"Christ! Craig told you about that!?"

"He didn't tell _me_," she replied innocently, "I heard him telling Token about it when he was over here a few days ago."

"Well…that's fine, too," said Tweek nervously.

"So last Saturday…where _were _you guys?"

"What?"

"Yea, last Saturday Craig lied to Clyde about where he was, _so_," she was grinning excitedly now, "Where was he?"

"We…we just walked home."

"Really."

"Augh! Yes!"

"And it took four hours to get home?"

"Wha—Where do you think we were?" asked Tweek, his voice strained. Why was he having this conversation in Craig's house with his younger sister?

"Oh, I don't know," shrugged Gillian, staring towards the kitchen cabinets. "He's been pretty messed up all week, you know."

"What?" exclaimed Tweek, a noticeable edge now present in his voice, "Is he okay? Is he sick? Christ, did I traumatize him? Oh Jesus, is he in an asylum? Did they lock him up? Oh shit, oh Christ! Did –"

"No!" yelled Gillian, reaching over to the table to grab Tweek by his shoulders and shove him back in his chair, which he had jumped out of moments before, "He's not sick. He's just been like, more moody than usual, y'know?"

Tweek was silent a second, nervously chewing his lip as he thought, "Nnnoo…"

"He's been pissier than usual, basically. He hasn't even been wearing his stupid blue hat."

Tweek winced, as though the insult to the hat had been a personal blow towards him, "Is it…why?"

"I think it's 'cuz of you," replied Gillian, smiling a little in spite of the fact that they were discussing her brother's current depressive state, "'Cuz he's been so worried."

"Jesus Christ! It _is _my fault! That's awful!"

"Awww, I think it's cute!"

"C-_cute_?" sputtered Tweek, jumping up again, but this time because the small light at the base of the coffeemaker had turned green, signaling the coffee was ready, "That's…he's…he's sick! And, and, for cute, I mean, _Christ _that's, it's just – crazy, why the hell, I think, I just," he stopped talking at that point, having managed to dislodge the coffee pot from the maker and pour himself a generous portion. Gillian watched with a bemused expression as Tweek swallowed the coffee as easily as she would breathe air.

"Impressive," commented Gillian when Tweek had lowered the now empty cup.

"Th-thanks," replied Tweek, experiencing a slight spasm so that he almost dropped the ceramic mug he had clutched tightly in his shivering grasp. For a while, both he and Gillian were silent, until, quietly, he asked, "Cute?"

xxx

Craig had always felt like the Tweak's house was something like a secret, hidden from those unworthy of knowing the truth about its location. Almost the entire first floor of the house was what made up Tweak Bros., Mr. Tweak's self-run coffee shop. Continue past the backdoors of the shop, though, and you would end up in a narrow kitchen. Next to that was a small, cramped dining room which also hosted a set of stairs that led up to the second, more roomy story of the house which supported the bedrooms, bathrooms and a small living room.

Craig rarely entered through the front of the house through the shop, preferring to use the backdoor which led directly to the kitchen. Currently he was standing on the back step, shifting his weight as he waited for someone to come answer the back door he had just knocked upon. He glanced at the thermos he had been tossing from hand to hand, discovering that he felt, for some inexplicable reason, nervous.

The doorknob turned, and Craig ceased throwing the thermos to stand still as the door swung back.

"Oh, hello Craig," greeted Mrs. Tweak in her characteristically calm voice, "How are you?"

"Fine, yea. Is Tweek home?"

"Oh, you just missed him."

Craig blinked, "What?"

"Yes, he just left a few minutes ago."

"Do you know where he went?"

"No, he didn't mention anything. I would tell you to call his cell phone, but he broke it last week."

"Huh," muttered Craig, then to Mrs. Tweak, "Well, thanks. Sorry for bothering you."

"Oh no, it's fine. Would you like some coffee before you leave?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks again," he replied, before turning and heading down the steps and back around to the front of the house again.

There was no place left to go now other than home. He liked to think that maybe Tweek had felt the same, that he'd be headed towards his house now, too, that after a whole week of being isolated the first place he would chose to go would be to see Craig.

And if he didn't? Craig continued walking, pausing only to light up a cigarette. For once, he felt that rare sensation, the fleeting feeling that perhaps the one thing he was after was maybe beyond his grasp, that his confidence and determination were not going to be enough for him to win out. _Fuck that_, he thought, reaching the front of his house, _when Gilly's done with her project, I'll just go back. I'll find him._

Craig took one last drag before stamping out his cigarette and walking into the house, stopping in the doorway to take off his coat.

"Craig?" called a voice he recognized as Gilly's.

"Yea?"

"Where've you been?"

"I told you, I went—" he had turned around to reply to his sister, whom he had heard approach from behind. But at the sight of who was standing behind her, his voice had shut off. The last time he'd seen Tweek had been a sideways view of him being strapped onto a gurney. Now he was standing—shaking—there behind Gilly, a souvenir mug with the Brooklyn Bridge on its front clutched in his quivering grasp. It was as if last Saturday had never happened, other than Tweek's healing black eye. Craig felt a brief urge to jump outside, go track down Kenny and punch him in the face. Again.

"Nng – Hey Craig."

"Hey Gilly," said Craig, though he was still watching Tweek, "Get lost."

"Oh, yea, hello to you, too," muttered Gilly, though for once she offered no argument as she listened to her brother and left the front hall, leaving the two of them in silence for a few seconds.

"It's weird seeing you without your hat," said Tweek finally, making an effort to smile.

"It's weird seeing you," replied Craig, subtracting a little of the distance between himself and Tweek as he stepped forwards, "Are you…okay?"

It was like that classic episode all TV shows do, where the two main characters end up switching bodies for a day. For that instant, Craig actually felt and let in the doubt and worry he had always blocked out with a wall of indifference before. And Tweek, after a week of being more repressed and isolated than usual, was feeling more free and confident than he could ever remember. At that moment, he felt like almost anything was within his reach.

Like, for instance, Craig. Craig, who, had never expected that Tweek would be the one to close the distance between them, to drop the coffee mug with a dull thud on the carpet, and with his newly freed hands to reach up, take Craig's face in his hands like Craig had done to Tweek only a week before, and bring him into the kiss that at that instant, both of them realized they had been waiting far too long for.

xxx

_"So?" I asked, "What about me?" It's still raining. Tweek's mug is nearing empty, which means we'll have to get up to visit the kitchen soon. _

_"You Craig…" he said, pulling a little away so that he could turn his head around and look at me. He smiled – goddamn, every time…Tweek's not really a smiler, with his constant ticks and twitching eyes, it's kind of a hard look for him to keep up. So his smiles are short, infrequent. Sometimes with me he does it more, and then he'll spasm or something so his mouth is sort of like a weird crooked line. I couldn't care less though. _

_"You make me forget about the coffee."_

_I love him, ruined smiles and all._

* * *

A/N: Yea I'm gonna stick my note down here! Sorry this update took so long, there's three reasons for that. 1) I got a six-day-a-week job/internship, 2) I was on internetless vacation last week, and 3) as opposed to chapters 1-3, I had no plan at all for 4. All the Craig parts were really hard for me to write for some reason, so I think the pacing is a little off in this chapter but hey, CONCLUSION! The kiss might be a little OC but I like a proactive Tweek sometimes. Thank you so very much to those of you who have read and reviewed. Hopefully this is not my last Craig/Tweek fic.


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